tell me what you want to hear
by foamskyandsea
Summary: It takes a lot to quiet Stiles.


Title: tell me what you want to hear

Author: emmajane14

Rating: R

Fandom/Pairing: Teen Wolf, Derek/Stiles

Summary: It takes a lot to quiet Stiles.

A/N: There's definitely something wrong with me because I definitely should not be writing this…Stupid fandom that took over my life before I had even watched the show… Also, this is part of a multifandom series all of which are centered around the motif of silence.

* * *

It takes a lot to quiet Stiles. Like _a lot_. His constant need to speak is never something he thought about much except when it was seventeen seconds from getting him in major trouble. But he can actually be quiet. It just requires a hell of a lot from the universe.

When Stiles' mother dies, he doesn't speak for a week.

It's not a conscious choice or a ploy for attention. It just makes sense. His mother is gone and he keeps having to correct himself. She's dead. Which is more final than gone could ever be.

He doesn't talk for a week and it makes sense to him. His mother, his beautiful, amazing mother, is dead. There's really nothing to say.

Nothing to be said.

* * *

Stiles always makes sure to say everything that comes to his mind on the day that used to be his mother's birthday. She never minded that his brain always worked so much quicker than his mouth. She used to laugh at how he would stumble over his words, so excited to get them out.

He's always quieter on the anniversary of her death though. It's only fair. He talks a mile a minute on her birthday but on the anniversary, he's almost silent.

Stiles gets through the day mostly through gestures and nods and a whispered "good morning" to his father but other than that, he's _so_ quiet.

There's a meeting at Derek's after school and Scott drags him along even though he knows what day it is. Maybe _because_ he knows what day it is but Stiles isn't going to argue.

The meeting is too long and too loud and Stiles zones out for most of it. Lydia and Derek are fighting over something while Scott and Allison are cooing over each other sickeningly and Jackson is yelling at everyone about something that no one is listening to. Stiles has practically folded in on himself and has been silent the entire time.

He almost doesn't notice when the loud buzzing of voices that had filled the room stops and there are five faces staring at him.

"Stiles? You alright? I was asking if you had any input on this ridiculous plan…"

Stiles isn't quite sure who's speaking but he notices when Scott cuts them off quietly.

"He's okay. It's just—today is—well…"

"Stiles."

And he knows that it's Derek now because no one has ever been able to catch Stiles' attention like Derek can. He wonders what that says about Derek. He wonders what that says about_ him_.

"Stiles." And Stiles knows he needs to stop getting lost in his head. So he meets Derek's eyes and grunts noncommittally.

Hopefully that's good enough. Knowing Derek, it probably isn't but who knows. Maybe the universe can just give Stiles a break today. Maybe the meeting can end now that he's proved he's alive and he can go home and bury himself in his bed and pretend he never has to get out.

The universe rarely works in his favor.

When he looks back up from where his eyes had accidently drifted to staring at a piece of burnt floorboard, the room is substantially less empty. Substantially. That's an interesting word. Substanttttttt—

Derek cuts his thought off by calling his name again and _damn_, hasn't he gotten sick of harassing Stiles yet?

"Stiles, look at me."

It's sounds more like a request than a demand and that makes Stiles curious enough to actually look up. What's going on that's enough to make Derek request things from him instead of his usual sharp demands?

Derek looks tired and a bit…worried? Is that even possible? Is Derek even capable of emotions like worry?

Stiles doesn't even realize he said the last bit of that out loud until Derek is giving him a look of pure confusion.

"That's the first thing I've heard you say all day."

That's probably because it's one of the only things Stiles _has_ said all day. He grunts again at Derek so the man knows he's alive and doesn't get all weird on him but that doesn't seem to help things. At all. If anything, the grunt just makes things worse.

Derek has creases on his forehead that don't look so great and if his jaw gets any tenser, Stiles thinks he might crack his teeth. Is that even possible? Maybe with all the werewolf strength? Definitely something to consider.

Stiles is contemplating the possibilities of cracking one's own teeth as a werewolf when Derek picks him up and drapes Stiles over himself on the couch.

Any other day, Stiles would make all kinds of remarks about how the last time he checked, he was pretty damn sure he was _not_ in fact a werewolf blanket and about how he usually prefers to be bought dinner before he's molested. Any other day.

But it's not any other day, it's today and it's not a day for him to be running his mouth all over the place like his dad likes to describe his hyperactive speech.

It's the anniversary of his mother's death and instead of sucking it up and living, he's being cuddled by Derek. By someone who lost _everything._ It's beyond messed up that someone who lost their entire world should be comforting Stiles, who only lost his mother but there's really nothing for Stiles to say.

So when Derek's hand ends up resting on Stiles' shoulder, he grabs it instead and intertwines Derek's fingers with his. And he doesn't say anything at all.

* * *

Sometimes, Stiles thinks so fast he can't speak. So when Scott comes flying into his bedroom from the window—seriously man, what the hell? can't he just use the door like the rest of the world?—and starts asking about this research Stiles had been doing—which is very important thank you very much—Stiles sits there gaping at him like a fish.

His hands are gesturing frantically in every direction as if he's talking and Scott just stares.

"What the fuck man? Are you okay?"

So Stiles takes a moment to attempt to calm his frantic hands and actually speak out loud instead of thinking a million thoughts a minute in Scott's direction.

Stiles takes a breath, "Sorry man, sometimes my mouth can't keep up with my brain—too much Adderall and all that…" and then he's off like a racehorse spewing more information at Scott than the werewolf could have ever asked for.

If Stiles has to be the token human, he might as well have something to show for it and if what he has to show is a brain that works faster than his mouth…well, at least he isn't Jackson.

* * *

Despite frequent and loud professions from Stiles that Derek absolutely does _not_ scare him in any way, shape or form, Derek does occasionally have the power to render Stiles speechless. And not in a good way.

Derek is currently seething and yelling some nonsense about Stiles not acting as bait while he has Stiles crowded back into a wall. And Stiles has absolutely nothing to say. Not a word.

Derek's ears are looking a little on the pointy side and his nails are looking a little longer than usual and Stiles does not gulp. Definitely not.

He can't quite meet Derek's eyes because chances are, he really does deserve to be yelled at for this, so instead he stares at Derek's shoulder. He stares at Derek's shoulder and tries very hard not to think about what it would taste like.

"Fuck. Fuckity, fuck, fuck, _fuck_" and that's the end of the silence from Stiles. It was fun while it lasted at least. Except not really.

* * *

The first time Derek kisses Stiles, he pretty sure it's a tactic to shut him up. So he responds the only way he knows how. By enthusiastically continuing to talk.

The second time Derek kisses him there's tongue and Stiles can't think of a single reason that speech could possibly important. Not when he could be doing this instead.

Derek has somehow managed to trap him against the kitchen counter—how does he always manage to do that anyway—and when he has a hand creeping down the back of Stiles' pants and is nipping his shoulder, Stiles thinks that maybe this biting fetish isn't such a bad thing after all.

* * *

Stiles wakes up in a bed that is definitely not his, surrounded by blankets that definitely aren't his in a room that definitely is not his.

There's a warm, very naked Derek spooned up against his back and it's still dark in the room he presumes is Derek's.

Stiles is warm and comfortable and for the first time in what seems like quite a while, he doesn't feel the need to say anything at all.


End file.
